


Take the time to take care of yourself - v2

by Ma_skee



Series: Tales of Living with a Stoma [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Hurt Peter Parker, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Parent Pepper Potts, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Michelle Jones, Protective Pepper Potts, Protective Tony Stark, Sad Peter Parker, Sick Character, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Teen Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:33:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23383093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ma_skee/pseuds/Ma_skee
Summary: Peter had been drifting in and out of consciousness. He had gotten out of emergency surgery about an hour ago and was beginning to wake up. Pepper was sitting anxiously by his side, greeting him every time he opened his eyes. Tony was taking a walk in the hallway, trying to keep his own nerves at bay.OrPeter has Crohn's Disease and it decides to act up during the worst time possible.I know the first chapter has wrestling in it but even if you don't understand wrestling keep reading because that's the only chapter with itAlso, I really appreciate comments! They make me happy!
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: Tales of Living with a Stoma [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1760980
Comments: 6
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

Peter was sitting with his head leaning against the window, his feet up on the seat, and tucked under a blanket. It was so early that the sky was still dark, an inky grey with a chill.

Peter was in a van, on his way up to the district meet for wrestling. The coach, Mark, was driving. His teammates were squshed four people to a row, even though they were only ment to have three. He had been lucky to snag the corner. Coming from a smaller school, the team was much smaller than others. There was 14 people on the team. A few of them were chatting now, but most kept to themselves and scrolled through their phones.

A deep ache was beginning to settle in Peter's gut. It sent panic through his chest and heat flashed through his body. He had to use the bathroom.

Peter sat up and leaned over to look at the GPS pulled up on Coach's phone. Four minutes. That was doable, he could hold it.

Maybe.

Peter had been diagnosed with Crohn's disease at the age of ten. After finally getting it under control that first time, over the past five and a half years, he would experience a flare roughly every three or four months. A few days ago he had to begun to feel the symptoms again. Peter was able to brush off the fatigue to his parents as being tired from practice. He told himself that it was from not eating as much from trying to make weight. But then the stomach pain began and he soon found himself constantly rushing to the bathroom. But it was okay, he could deal with it.

He was not going to miss his chance at state because of a flare up.

He placed his head back against the window, letting the cool glass chill the heat in his face. His stomach really hurt. Peter took quiet, deep breaths, trying to ease the aching. If they didn't get inside the school within the next five minutes... oh it would be a shitty time for Peter.

It was only a few minutes before Coach pulled into the school parking lot, but it felt like hours to Peter. The team began to stir, collecting shoes that had been kicked off and folding blankets. Peter patted the floor, looking for his tennis shoes. Luckily he was by the door.

But real quick another problem arised. Coach was really picky about being early to districts so the team could get some really nice seats. But, he had arrived so early the the all the door the the school were still locked and there was no one there to open the doors.

Heat flashes rushed through Peter's body. Who knew how long it would be before they got into the school? Oh no, no, nono...

Coach was driving recklessly through the parking lot, swerving all over, driving on sidewalks, making sudden stops, causing the team to shout and laugh, but Peter didn't join. He pulled his blanket over his shoulders to hide how he was clutching his stomach.

Lights suddenly blinded him.

They came from a truck! Someone to let them in, thank the Gods!

Coach parked the van and the team quickly piled out. The flooded the back door, grabbing thier bags. Peter was able to keep ahead of the flow and soon the team was headed inside.

Peter followed his teammates to the specific special spot, which was upstairs and actually overlooked the mats with a good view, dropped his bag and snuck down a hallway where there was hopefully a bathroom. At this point, if there wasn't a bathroom, Peter would end up in a terrible situation. But luckily, praise the Gods, he soon spotted a sign for bathrooms. These bathrooms had no doors, only short hallways turning into them, but Peter hoped he was far enough from his teammates that they wouldn't hear him. They had most likely gone back downstairs to sleep on the mats anyway.

He waddled into the bathroom, not caring that it was dark. He didn't have time to look for the lights. He burst into the nearest stall and finally was able to go.

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The day had drawn on for far too long, and it was only nine o'clock. AM.

Other schools began to show up and Coach made his team go check thier weights. Peter had lost so much weight in the past three days that he was only .1lbs away from being in the next lower weight class.

During warmups, he felt sluggish and achy. He had to get over it, push through. During matches he had to give it his all, and then he could nap in between.

Around nine thirty, his parents showed up with Mj in tow. Morgan was going to spend the day at a friends house. Seeing his girlfriend made warmth spread in his chest. She took a seat next to him and pulled his blanket over herself.

"When do you wrestle?" She asked.

Peter yawned. "Probably in an hour and a half or so. Not even 106 has started yet."

"Peter, are you feeling okay?"

"What? I'm fine."

"You just don't look to good."

"I'm fine. Just tired."

To prove his point, he lay his head on her shoulder. She sighed.

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Peter felt about three seconds away from throwing up. He had finally been called to his mat. In between warmups and now, he had used the bathroom three times. His gut felt all twisted, he felt shaky.

It was just nerves. He was fine.

He stood off to the side, waiting for the match to finish. He was up next, and normally he would be lighty jumping from side to side, warning up, but he was worried that if he stared jumping he would have to find a trash bin. Not that that was hard, there are bins everywhere at wrestling matches.

And now it was his turn. He checked in, stepped onto the mat, strapped on the colored anklet, red, and dropped into his stance.

He just had to stay low and be quick. Get it over with before he threw up.

He shook hands with the opponent, green.

Ref blew the whistle.

Green went straight to a tie up, leaving his legs open. Peter changed his elevation and went for a double, but Green was to quick. He sprawled, hard. This sent Peter crashing down to the mat, his own knees slamming him in the stomach. He didn't even realize Green had made a takedown because a wave of nausea flew over him. He was going to puke.

Luckily Green let him get up, planning to get more takedowns. Peter ran off the mat to the trash bin in between the mats. His stomach heaved and he threw up. It burned his throat, and tasted like copper.

Shit.

That was bad.

He just threw up blood.

It was another flare.

Shit.

He had to finish the match. He had to get to state.

He turned around and went back to his mat. Coach was squinting at him from the corner. Peter didn't feel any better, but he was determined to win. But it would have to be quick or he would throw up again.

Peter and Green went back to center, back to thier stances.

Ref blows the whistle.

This time, Peter goes for the tie up. He gets a good collor tie. Green had also gone to tie ups, leaving his legs open. Peter held the collar tie, pushing down on his neck. He felt his stomach churn. Peter dropped to his knees, still holding Greens neck, grabbed the back of his ankle, and pushed Greens head over the ankle.

Ankles picks baby. Solves all your problems.

Green fell on his back, and his neck snapped back, causing him to smack his head against the ground. While he was nursing his head, Peter climbed on top of him, quickly snatched a half, and pressed all his weight on top of Green. Green struggled, trying to twist away, but the Ref called it. Peter won.

The Ref lifted Peters hand into the air but Peter couldn't feel the glory. He felt sick. He all but yaked his hand away from the ref and ran back to the trash bin, emptying his guts again. He was greeted with the same coppery taste.

When he stood back up, the world began to tilt away from him. He gripped the edge of the bin, trying to fight his body wanting to pass out. His legs began to shake. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hide from the tilting world and trying to keep tears off his cheeks.

Please don't pass out, please don't pass out, please don't pass out...

A hand landed on his back.

It was his coach, holding his warmup gear.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I-im fine."

"Bullshit."

Peter blinked.

"For starters, you threw up twice in the past five minutes. Not only that, you threw up blood."

"N-no-"

"I'm not blind, Peter. I can see in the trash bin. It's also on your chin."

Peter quickly wiped at his chin. Sure enough, the back of his hand came back with streaks of blood.

"Come on," Coach pulled him by his shoulder. "We have to get off the mat."

Together they walked off the mat. He walked past his parents and Mj, who had been watching from the sides. A quick look told them that he had to go with his coach, they could talk later.

Coach led him down a hallway, away from the crowds. He then gave Peter his warmup gear, which he gratefully accepted. He felt so cold. Finally, the two ended up sitting against the wall, which Peter was also grateful for. He still felt a bit like passing out.

"Okay, tell me what's up." Coach began.

"I - I'm just a little sick, I'll be fine."

"Peter, please. You are as white as a ghost, shaking, and I watched you almost tip over at the trash bin. You've been off almost all week, and you've dropped an entire weight class when you didn't need to."

Peter just looked at the carpet in front of him.

"I think I should go get your parents and get their input."

As much as he didn't want to, Peter agreed. He nodded.

"Okay, you stay here."

Coach stood up and headed back down the hallway. Peter tipped his head back and let it rest against the wall behind him. He listen to the distant cheers and crys from the other matches.

He could feel darkness pulling at him. The cheering seemed to fade away, he felt his head begin to tip. His body would have gone with it if there had not suddenly been a hand, catching his face. The icy hand startled him awake, everything around him seemed to sharpen, and he saw his mother's face in front of him.

"Hi, Mom."

"Hi there. Almost lost you there."

"No, I'm fine."

Pepper sighed. She dropped her hands from his face and looked back at her husband, who stood tall behind her. He the hitched up his pants and kneeled next to his wife.

"Peter, you're sick. We need to take you to the ER."

"What!? No, no, it's districts Dad, I-I have to be here to win, and go to state!"

"Peter," now his coach was leaning down. "As your coach I would want you to keep going, but you. Are. Sick. I don't want you to wrestle if you are going to hurt yourself."

"I won't hurt myself, I'm fine, please..." The ground shifted. His stomach turned.

"Woah, Peter." His mother placed her hands on his shoulders.

"I-"

"What?"

"I'm gonna-"

His stomach heaved and he slapped his hands over his mouth.

The three adults all jumped up and began to frantically search for something for Peter to be sick in. Coach dug into his backpack and came up with a plastic shopping bag. He shook it in the air, opening it, and handed it to Peter, who quickly accepted.

Peter sat up, crossing his legs. He held the bag in front, trying to hide his face from the adults. He felt a hand on his back and knew it had to be his mother.

The same copper taste burned at his throat. There was no way he could deny throwing up blood now.

Slowly he sat back, taking deep breaths.

"I'm sorry." He murmured. "I'm sorry."

"Peter, you have nothing to be sorry for." His father took the bag from him and tied it off. He then went on a search for a trash bin.

"Peter," his mother murmured. "We have to go to the ER."

Tears stung Peters eyes. He took a shuddering breath and dropped his head, trying to hide his face. He tried to hide the crying noises, but his nose began to run and little squeaks kept escaping his throat.

"But... but what about s-state?"

Pepper looked to his coach. He slowly shook his head. If Peter didn't place today, he wouldn't move on, and he agreed with Peters parents. He need to go to the ER.

"I'm sorry, Peter." Pepper whispered.

"Peter?" It was Mj. She had ran into Tony, who was going to pack up Peters bag. She was holding his blanket in her hands.

Peter glanced at her. The sight of him made Mjs heart crumble. His face was red but pale and puffy, his hair was sweaty, and he was shaking.

"Oh, Peter." She breathed.

She slowly sat down next to him, as Pepper and Coach both stood and walked a bit away to give them some space.

Mj settled down next to Peter and pulled the blanket over the both of them. Peter was trying so hard not to cry. His breath hitched, and he kept holding it to keep from making gross crying sounds. A quiet sob broke through.

"Peter..." Mj wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into her. Even though Mj was taller ( not by much, only three inches) and Peter was bigger (also not by much, mostly because of a certain disease), it almost seemed he fit perfectly into Mj arms.

Tears slid down his face and soaked into Mj sweater.

"I don't want to go to the ER." He whispered.

"I know." Mj whispered back.

"They're gonna put a tube down my nose."

"I know."

"I'm going to miss state."

"Maybe not. You might be able to go support your team."

"Yeah, but I really wanted t-to comp-peat this year."

"I know."

Mj placed a kiss on the top of his head. Her lips came back salty from the sweat still in his hair, making it curlier than usual. Peter had been talking about state since the season began. It was all he talked about. But she didn't mind. It made her happy to see him so excited.

The two sat together, Peter needing the comfort of his bestfriend.

Soon Pepper and Tony came back, Tony with Peter's bag slung over his shoulder. Coach had been called to another match. He would have to explain to the team what had happened. Hopefully he wouldn't get to specific.

Mj stood, collecting the blanket while Tony pulled Peter to his feet. He swayed for a bit, but he insisted on walking to the car. He was not going to be carried, he was 16. Even if they were leaving through a back door.

Mj set the blanket onto Peters arms and them pulled him into a hug. She whispered into his ear.

"Remember Peter, you have to take time to take care of yourself."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is at the ER for his Chrons acting up

AT THE ER

Peter lay back onto a paper covered table. As the paper crinkled under him, he tried to keep himself from wincing at the pain. Maybe he could still get out of here. 

The nurse who had led them to the room picked up a clipboard. 

"Okay" she started "let's get going. What's the problem today?"

Pepper stepped in. "He has Crohn's disease and we think he's having a flare."

Peter was starting to feel very cold. His whole body was beginning to shiver and he couldn't get himself to stop. 

"On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?"

Peter hated that question. Maybe he was overthinking it, but what were the qualifications for each number? What made pain a six and not a five? 

"F-five? S-ix? I don't know..."

The nurse stared at him. He sat as still as he possibly could, ever muscle tense to try and stop the shaking. This nurse was seeing right through him. She turned back to Pepper.

"When about was the last time he vomited?" The question made his stomach turn.

"Maybe thirty minutes ago?"

"Right." She set the clipboard down. "I need to get some vitals."

She strapped the blood pressure cuff on his arm. As it began to squeeze, she slipped a plastic cover onto the thermometer and held it out for Peter. 

He stuck it in his mouth, but the plastic taste made the nausea worse.

"Are you feeling nauseous?" The nurse had watched Peter's face suddenly take on a green tinge. Peter gave a slight nod. She handed him a puke bag. 

"Blood pressure is normal, but you've got a really high fever. 104.2. That explains the shaking."

"104 point... that's why he's shaking?" Tony asked

"Yeah, when you get a really high fever very quickly, it can cause your entire body to shake." The nurse picked up her clipboard. "Right, I think our next move it to get an IV in you, give you some fluids, fever reducer, and pain meds. I'm going to page the on call GI doctor and get him down here too."

"Ok. Thank you." Tony said as she left the room.

An anxious silence fell over the family. Pepper's bag buzzed. 

"Here Peter, it's your phone." She held it out to him. 

It was a text from Mj. 

• I got a ride from my parents. How are you? 

° grand

• Peter, for real

° I've got a fever and the shakes, but I'll be fine. Don't worry. 

• I love you

° I love you too

Peter set his phone down at a knocking on the door. It was an IV team. 

Peter felt panic rise in his chest. He had gotten so many IVs before that it hardly bugged him but this time he was shaking so bad and he couldn't control it. He had always been a hard stick but the shaking would make it harder for them. He couldn't control the shaking, he couldn't stop and he hated it, hated it to the core of his soul. He body was moving without him controlling it and it was really freaking him out. 

A nurse lay a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, I need you to breathe, okay? We can't put an IV in you if your hyperventilating."

Peter forced his breath to slow. He just had to breathe deep and it would get better. 

\-------------------------

The pain meds were making Peter tired. He could feel sleep tugging at his head, but he wanted to stay awake until the doctor came. He wanted to know what the doctor was going to do with him. 

"Peter, you can go to sleep." Pepper gently coaxed. 

Peter's phone buzzed, but he couldn't read the letters. His eyes were to fuzzy. 

"I'm good, Mom."

Just then, the doctor walked in. He asked the same routine questions. How's your pain? Where is it? What's it like? He noted Peter's fever and vomiting as well. Then came the part Peter was dreading. 

"I'm going to need to feel your stomach. Can you take your jacket off for me?" Peter was still in his wrestling warm up and singlet. Slowly he peeled off his jacket. Pepper pulled it off his arms and folded it on her lap. 

"Ah, you wrestle?" The doctor asked. Peter nodded. "I wrestled myself in high school. Can you pull down your singlet to your waist? I'll ask a nurse to bring you a gown." 

With shaking hands, Peter pulled his arms from the straps and down to his waist. He was now sitting shirtless in a freezing room and tears were stinging his eyes. Slowly he lay back on the ice cold table, instinctively wrapping his shaking arms around his stomach. 

"I need to feel your stomach, ok?" Peter dropped his arms to his sides and clenched his fists, still trying to stop the shaking. He was holding his breath, trying to keep back the tears. 

"Let me know if anything hurts." Uh, try everything. 

The doctor gently ran his hands over Peter's stomach. Then, he pushed down on one spot. This sent pain raging through Peter's body. The breath he was holding came out as a sob and the sound would bring him embarrassment for years to come. He brought a fist to his mouth and began to bite down on his thumb knuckle. He hated crying, but tears spilled down his face, dripping into his ears. 

Pepper put a hand over her mouth and placed a hand on his shoulder while Tony jumped up, partially wanting to hit the doctor for hurting his son. 

The doctor pressed a few more times, each causing more pain for Peter. Tony moved closer to Pepper and pulled Peter's hand from his mouth. Peter pulled his hand away from his dad and instead grabbed a death grip on his sweatpants. 

"I'm sorry I had to do that Peter." The doctor said, stepping back. Pepper handed Peter his jacket and helped him pull it over his shoulders. "But I'm afraid you might have a blockage. It might be from swelling in you intestines. I'd have to get some scans to be sure, but if this is the case we'd have to insert an NG tube to clear it. If it doesn't clear... we might have to think about a surgery. But let's take it one step at a time. I'm going to order some scans and get you a gown." 

\---------------------------

One gown, four terrible x-rays, three trips to the bathroom and after throwing up twice, Peter was watching a nurse prepare the NG tube. Just as he predicted. 

He hated having the tube inserted. It felt so awful and invasive. He tried to stop his own crys but was only partially successful. 

After the tube was placed, Peter was moved from the ER room to a proper hospital room. His father had gone home to gather some supplies and Pepper was sitting in an armchair next to him. 

He finally let himself fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to call out my medical inaccuracies


	3. Chapter 3

AT THE HOSPITAL, THREE DAYS LATER

There was a knock at the door. Normally, Peter would get up to greet whoever was coming in, but after being in and out of the hospital many times over the past few years, he had learned that nurses can still gather your vitals while you're asleep. 

Or pretending to be asleep. 

Once, when Peter was twelve, he had been peacefully sleeping while nurses gathered his vitals. But this time they needed more than just his blood pressure and temperature. They also needed blood samples. Apparently 1 am, while he was sleeping, was the best time to gather them. Probably because he was a child and they expected him to fight the needle, even though he had never done that in the past. Peter woke up while they were gathering blood, and he had to swallow a scream. 

Peter hated recalling that memory. 

"Peter?"

Peter lay still, facing away from the nurse.

"Peter?" They asked again. 

I'm obviously sleeping, please go away and do not come back later. 

Instead, the door shut and whoever it was walked in. But instead of checking the IV or taking vitals, they took a seat. 

"Looks like he's sleeping." They whispered. Was that... Mj? 

"Should we wait a bit?" ... Ned? 

"Ned, you suck at whispering." Peter mumbled into his pillow. 

"Oh, sorry man. Did I wake you?" Ned was sitting in the armchair. 

"No, I was awake. Thought you were a nurse or something." Peter slowly sat up, trying to hide that he was wincing ever time his stomach moved. "Did you guys come to bring me homework?"

"You're not seriously going to do homework while your in here." Mj said as she sat on the edge of Peter bed. 

"C'mon, I got nothing better to do."

"...fine." Mj pulled packets of papers from her backpack. "Y'know, our teachers have gotten really good at putting a few weeks work into a packet." 

"It really helps when they have to do it every two months."

There was an uncomfortable silence as Mj handed the papers to Peter. 

"So, uh..." Ned cleared his throat. "How are you dude? I hate to say this but I can only stay for a few minutes. My shift starts earlier today." 

"It's okay man, I appreciate you coming. And uh, I'm doing good. Still have a fever but it's gone down. Haven't eaten in three days due to this tube down my nose." 

"Want me to bring you a burrito?" 

Peter made a face. "You know I can't eat burritos."

Ned smiled. "Sorry, bad joke."

"Even if I wanted to, I'm not allowed to eat. Apparently my intestines are blocked because they're all swollen. But it's fine, I don't have any appetite right now." 

"What's that tube even fell like?" 

"Um... y'know when you're eating spaghetti? The long kind? And a noodle gets stuck in your throat? It's like that but you can't swallow it."

"Ewww... that's disgusting, I hate that." 

"Okay, but you know what's grosser? Throwing up the tube..."

"Disgusting"

"... and having to still pull it out your nose..."

"Ew stop it Peter!"

"And getting a new tube placed all over again."

"Ight! That's my queue to leave. Love you Peter, but that's gross and I have work." 

"Bye Ned. Love you!" 

Ned waved as he walked out the door. Mj waved back. 

"Okay" she got up and walked to the other side of the bed so she could sit next to him without sitting on any tubes. Peter automatically put his head on her shoulder and she began to play with his hair. "How are you really?" Peter sighed.

Quiet minutes passed. Mj didn't prompt Peter again because she knew he was gathering his thoughts. Or perhaps he didn't want to talk just yet and just wanted to cuddle. She didn't mind cuddling, not at all, but she knew her boyfriend was really good at bottling up his emotions. Somehow he could put on a mask in the darkest of times. Mj hated seeing him battle his mind on his own and did her best to get him to talk without being to pushy. 

Peter sighed again. 

"This really sucks." His voice was hardly even a whisper. "I was so excited, so ready for state... but now I'm here... and..." 

Mj waited for him to talk again, hoping he would do it on his own, but instead he suddenly began to shake. 

"Peter?" She felt him tense up as he pulled away from her and put a forearm over his eyes. He was crying. 

"Hey, Peter... it's okay to cry." 

He sucked in a breath, covering a sob trying to break through. He kept trying to take deep breaths but he hated the fact that he was crying in front of someone, even though it was Mj, and his body was shaking again, not just from the crying but because his fever was going back up, he could feel it, and he was suddenly freezing and shaking and he hated that he couldn't control the shaking, hated that his body was moving and he was helpless against it and he just felt so overwhelmed and overstimulated. 

"I'm sorry." He whispered, switching from his forearm over his eyes to pressing the heels of his hands into them. "I'm sorry, sorry."

"Peter, you have nothing to be sorry for." Mj pulled him into a hug. Peter kept his hands over his eyes but he let Mj gently rock his shaking body back a forth. 

Soon his tears stopped and he slowly wrapped his arms around Mj. 

They stayed there, holding each other. 

Peter would have fallen asleep if a nurse didn't suddenly waltz in to take his vitals. 

"Your blood pressure is normal, but your fever has gone back up." He wrote on his clipboard. "I'll order some fever reducers. I also need to get a few blood samples, okay?"

Peter nodded and held out his arm. He was still shaking, but Mjs hand on his kept him from freaking out like the time in the ER. 

Soon they were alone in the room again. 

"What were you going to say earlier?" Mj had gone back to playing with Peter's hair. 

"Hm?"

"You never finished your sentence."

"Oh... well, um... my doctor said that... because I've been in here so often over the past months... because medicines stop working... that if... if this blockage doesn't clear in a few days..."

"Then what?"

"T-then we will have to consider surgery."

"...oh."

"Yeah..."

The two lay there in silence, Peter still shaking and with his head and Mjs shoulder, Mj playing with Peter's hair. Peter fell asleep a few minutes later, exhausted. 

A nurse came in with a fever reducer, which she was able to give him through the IV line. 

Mj herself eventually nodded off. 

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Pepper and Tony walked in to find the two teenagers fast asleep. Peter was curled into Mjs arms, and she had her head resting on top of his. 

Pepper, being such a mom, smiled as she pulled out her phone to take a picture.


	4. Chapter 4

ONE WEEK LATER

"Your fever has not come down, and it spikes every time the fever reducer wears off. Your stomach has swollen from the blockage and you are in a great deal of pain. The NG tube has not cleared things up as I hoped. I hate to say this but we need to get you into surgery as quickly as possible."

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If you ever want to take a five hour nap in less that two seconds, try being put under. Somehow time passes faster.

Peter had been drifting in and out of consciousness. He had gotten out of emergency surgery about an hour ago and was beginning to wake up. Pepper was sitting anxiously by his side, greeting him every time he opened his eyes. Tony was taking a walk in the hallway, trying to keep his own nerves at bay.

The doctors had come to him a few days before saying that if the blockage did not clear he would need surgery. They said it was getting to the point they were worried part of his intestines could possibly begin to tear from being so stretched. 

They came back a few days later, spent two mintues looking at him, then twenty minutes in the hall before declaring they needed to remove to affected part of his colon.

They also told him that instead of doing a resection right away, he would end up with a stoma to give his insides a rest. 

Peter was going to wake up an ostomate. 

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"Ew, that's nasty." 

"Well, better get used to it Peter." Tony called from where he was sitting. 

"Not helping Dad!"

Peter was back in his room, a few days post-op. A stoma nurse named Oscar was helping him change his bag. 

"I know it looks gross, but you will eventually get used to it." He pressed down on the bag, making sure the adhesive was sticking. Peter tried to hide the wince of pain. "I'm sorry, I bet your still sore." Oscar stepped back. 

"Yeah, a little bit... but this is way better than a few days ago." 

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Peter was sitting under a bundle of blankets, tucked into the corner of the couch. His head was resting on his hand as he half heartedly watched TV. 

The front door burst open. 

"Hey Peter!"

"Hey Morgan." Peter paused the TV. 

"Look at what I made during art class." She held up a scribbly picture. 

"Oh my goodness Mogran, that's amazing! Look at the technique."

Morgan giggled. "Also, Daddy brought home takeout so dinners in five minutes." 

"Okay I'll be right there." Peter pushed off the blankets and stretched with his hands above his head. This caused his shirt to lift up and part of his bag peeked out. Peter caught Morgan looking at it out of the corner of his eye and immediately dropped his arms and tugged his shirt back down. Heat flushed his face. "I'll be right back." 

"Where are you going?" Morgan began to pout. 

"To the bathroom Morgan, don't cry. Geez."

He hobbled down the hallway, using the wall to support him. He was supposed to be using a cane to help him walk, but he avoided it whenever he could.

He had gone to the bathroom with the intention of emptying his bag, but ten minutes later he was sitting on the toilet seat with his head in his hands and tears on his cheeks.

This bag changed everything. It was supposed to make him feel better, allow him to eat more varieties of food, give him a break from pain. But the bag was bringing a different kind of pain. How was he supposed to go back to school? How would he keep it hidden? How could he do anything active with a bag hanging off his stomach? 

He could feel the full bag pressing against his stomach and his hands began to shake. He didn't want to touch it. He didn't even want to look at it. 

There was a knock at the door. "Peter?" It was Pepper. "You okay?"

Peter opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out. 

"Hey, Peter?" Another knock. "Can I come in?" 

Peter sighed. 

"Yeah, sure." He heard the door open and click as Pepper closed it behind her. She then kneeled down she she was sitting in front of him with her hands on his knees. 

"What's up Buddy?" Walking in to see her son sitting on the closed toilet, his hands hiding his face and his elbows on his knees felt like a pierce to her heart. She wished they hadn't had to take such drastic measures but it was either this or the possibility of death. 

"I- it's just hard." He whispered. Pepper hummed and rubbed his knee. "I think I'm still getting used to it, that all." 

"Of course you are Peter. Its been what - almost three weeks now? This is a big adjustment, and you need to give yourself time to recover."

"I know." Peter sighed and dropped his hands from his eyes.

"There's my beautiful boy." Pepper patted his knee again. Peter rolled his eyes. "Do you want to come eat dinner? Dad brought home takeout but I can heat up some chicken broth." 

"Yeah, but-"

"But?"

"I came here to empty it but then I... I got a little freaked out."

"Oh... do you need help?"

Peter's face flushed. He did not want his mom helping him empty his poo bag. "N-no. Can... can you just... stay close?" He hated asking her to do something unnecessary. 

"Yeah, ok. I'll be right outside okay? Let me know when you done and I'll help you to the table. You really need to be using that cane."

"I know, I know." 

It took a bit, but Peter managed to empty the bag by himself. Pepper then helped him walk to the table and brought him a bowl of chicken broth. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"SHUT UP FLASH!" 

The entire hallway fell silent.

"Yo, chill Mj. I was just messing around." 

"Uh uh, don't you dare mess around Flash. Or I will use that "stick" to beat you into a pulp." 

"Uh... okay..." Flash turned a quickly disappeared in the crowd. 

"Thanks Mj, but you need my permission to use my cane to beat him up." Peter said as he bent to pick up his water bottle. He stopped suddenly as he felt a sore ache in his belly.

"I got it." Mj picked up his water bottle and tucked it into his backpack pocket.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"But really, thanks for telling Flash off."

"I tried to tell him off before you came back but that asshole kept laughing and saying you were faking it and the next time I see him I'm going to throw him into a wall." 

"Wait, seriously? He thought I was faking it?"

"Yes!! And he said he wanted photographic evidence!" 

"He is an absolute asshole!" 

"Agreed." 

Peter sighed. "I wish I still didn't have to use this thing, but I can't get to far without it." 

Mj looked at Peter not knowing what to say to make him feel better. She looked at his cane, plain black. 

"Would you mind if I came to your house tonight?" She suddenly asked. "I just got an idea."

"What is it?"

"Can I paint your cane?"

"Paint it?" Peter looked at his plain black cane. Painting it wouldn't hurt. He would definitely like it more if it was painted by Mj. "Yeah, sure. That sounds really nice actually." 

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SIX MONTHS POST-OP

It's suprising how you can get used to living with a bag taped to you side. 

Well, it doesn't happen right away, and not without some embarrassing mishaps. 

For example, Peter and Mj went out to watch a movie. When the movie ended and they stood up, Peter discover that his bag had leaked all over, everywhere. They ended up waiting for the theater to empty and using Mjs over sized jacket to cover him up while they walked to the car. Peter also ended up using the jacket to wipe his tears while Mj drove him home. 

Another time, when Peter was spending the night at Ned's, the two had stayed up far to late playing video games. Eventually they both crawled into Neds bed for the night. Peter woke up to Ned shaking him, trying to tell him his bag had leaked. Peter was mortified. Apologies never came out his mouth faster. 

Once, while Peter was in his favorite class, science, the teacher played a movie. Right at the end, Peter suddenly felt his bag began to leak. He stayed in his seat, afraid to move, as the rest of the class packed up. 

But having a stoma is not all bad. Other than doctor appointments and checkups, Peter had been out of the hospital for six months. That was twice as long as he normally went, and was still healthy and growing stronger.

He was able to eat foods that he wouldn't even go near before, afraid of upsetting his gut. Peter was finally able to eat a burrito from Ned's job.

Mj had stayed in the living room, hanging out (and distracting ) Morgan while he cleaned himself up. He tossed his clothes and Mjs jacket in the washer. He finally came downstairs in sweatpants, a fresh shirt and bag, and wet messy hair. Peter and Mj snuggled together on the couch after Morgan wandered outside. They quietly talked and if there was some kissing, don't tell Tony. 

Ned had helped him clean up the mess even after Peter insisted on doing it himself. They threw the bedding in the wash and Peter took a shower. He ended up borrowing some of Ned's clothes. They then wandered to the kitchen looking for breakfast. You'll get a different story from either boy ok n how it started, but somehow there was a cheerio food fight. 

Peter's science teacher, Mr. Loran, had come to Peter after he was the only one left in class. He didn't judge, didn't laugh. Instead he gently talked Peter down from freaking out and grabbed a jacket from the classes lost and found.

Having a stoma has its ups and downs, but as long as you take care of yourself, you'll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm really worried about medical inaccuracies so please call me out if needed.


	5. All done

Yeah, so that's the story. Thanks for reading! Leave a comment or a suggestion of what I should write next.

**Author's Note:**

> It there really not a tag for peter and mj dating or can I just not find it


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